


In Medias Res

by ExtasisQED



Series: extasisQED [1]
Category: The Voice RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Master/Slave, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtasisQED/pseuds/ExtasisQED
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: In Medias Res [Part the First]<br/>Pairing: Blake(Imperium)/Adam(Gravitas)<br/>Rating: NC17<br/>Not for the faint of heart</p><p>We are extasisQED | A co-op Shevine experience<br/>Follow us for the rest</p><p>tumblr: extasisQED<br/>@extasisQED<br/>LJ @ extasisQED<br/><i>an experiment in multi-medium fandom creation</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Medias Res [1]

It had taken years, but Blake thought he was close. He was almost finished. Almost.

****

Most people assumed he lived in a barn. Yeah, it was true, but he had a lot of land too, and an _actual_ barn. He was still amazed Miranda had never found **it**.

****

UPS box in hand, Blake ascended the stairs to the renovated barn loft. It looked like something out of This Old House, shellacked, bright wood. It was too glossy.

****

Blood was difficult to scrub away.

His hand smoothed along the railing on his way to the first doorway. A hand reached out to press aside the thick, suede panel curtain. The texture was heavy under his fingers, bringing to mind perfect hips and a velvet gasp.

****

“ _Blake_ , Blake!”   
  
*snap* _hiss_.

****

**“Try again.”**

****

“....sir, please....”  
  
*snap* _hiss_ **“Again.”**  
  
“Sir, _please_!”  
  
Walking to the pegboard, his lips twitched twice, in time with his dick. There was a flat surface nearby, and he set the package down, almost forgotten in his hand.

****

Blake’s fingers glanced over the handles. Leather braiding, flat wood, thick rubber, some phallic, others utilitarian. All with stories, memories, and most enticingly, potential.

****

How many strikes from the crop would it take to redden his lover’s skin? His lover, his _**boy**_. Blake loved how saying it, with that metallic twang, made Adam shiver every time. Visibly.

****

A crop was a warm up piece, and one they’d already explored that day. Same with the paddle, the rubberized embossed diamond tread leaving a nice cross section over his boy’s ass and thighs.

****

God, that ass.

****

Blake shook his head, refocusing. After that, they’d progressed upwards, the vibration caused by the wooden paddle (with holes, always with holes) is what finally pushed Adam into that place. It charged the whole room, and Blake had had to stop to get on his knees, cleaning the sweat at the small of his back away with tongue and lips.

****

**“That’s gonna sting when we get where we’re goin’.”**

Adam had sucked in a breath of air when Blake’s domineering _smirk_ cut over his lips, slicing invisible over clammy skin.

****

“ _Yes sir, it will,_ ” came the shaky response. Blake didn’t have to look to know Adam was dripping, sweat, precome, and need.

****

That had been twenty minutes ago. Maybe thirty. Blake lost count, but he was sure Adam hadn’t. His boy was three rooms down, and Blake could hear the heavy breathing. Even with the break, Adam apparently couldn’t help himself.

****

Blake gave in, letting his mind wander. Adam had been such a natural. Sure, they’d dicked around, gone behind the backs of not just one but two women, and they were assholes for it. But....there was _something_. What that something was, it snuck up on them. Drunken exchanges, first, until Blake had backed Adam into the darkness and given in.   
  
Adam didn’t say no.  
  
After the dust had settled, months later, there was that _something_ again, pulling them, tempting them, fooling them down yet another road and here they were. Adam had taken to the heavy restraints and flogger in a way he’d only ever seen once, years ago in a backroom of the Nashville underbelly. That was where it had all started, and Blake had been looking for that final piece.

****

Blake fingered the tawse, the slapper, trying to decide. Nothing seemed right. A deep, steadying breath filled his lungs, and he let it out slow, reaching for the package. It was when the tracking data told him the latest piece of the puzzle would arrive late afternoon that Blake decided what they needed to do. All he needed to do was utter one word, **the** word, and Adam had fallen to his knees, instantly.   
  
“ _I’m yours, sir_.”

****

“ _I’m yours, sir._ ” It was uttered with such distinct desperation, but it took Blake a moment to realize it wasn’t coming from his memory, but down the hall.

****

**“That’s five lashes,”** Blake called in even response. He almost missed the whimper, that may or may not have been regretful.   
  
Adam was close, and Blake knew it, but when they’d talked about the potential this experience could hold, he’d told his lover that he’d have to push Adam further than he’d even been, straight over the edge. It was the only way to get the return Adam longed for, when he was on his knees trying desperately to shed everything but his core.

****

That had been an hour ago, when his boy got on his knees. When Blake had gazed down expectantly, he’d shuffled forward and put his head on his thigh, looking up. There was a day of stubble, and it caught on denim as he’d nuzzled Blake affectionately.

****

It had taken forty minutes, leaving the main house, his boots clicking on the wooden steps in the barn, up to the loft and behind his crawling boy.

****

It had taken forty minutes from then, to sending Adam into free fall.

****

Still, Blake wouldn’t tolerate disobedience. Five lashes.

****

His most versatile whip was his choice, at last, and he grabbed the package on his way out the door, dragging the curtain closed behind him. Two rooms down, both without doors (Adam’s influence), and down to the third.

****

**“Are you going to behave _boy_ , or is it gonna be ten?”** Blake gathered the curtain in his hand, deliberate as he teased himself with the sight he knew would greet him. His boy, that completion, the half finished canvas.

****

“ _I’m yours, sir._ ”

 


	2. Libera Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part the second - Enter Gravitas
> 
> We are extasisQED | A co-op Shevine experience  
> Follow us for the rest
> 
> tumblr: extasisQED  
> @extasisQED  
> LJ @ extasisQED  
>  _an experiment in multi-medium fandom creation_

Adam was used to this heat, by now. The burn and the sting and the purring growl of his lover's voice. He'd always thought that the country drawl was something humorous, something to be mimicked and mocked but never imitated until he'd heard it when bound and gagged with his ass in the air. That changed everything.

****

Of course, Blake changed everything. He'd been happy, he remembered. Happiness of a sort, like when you settle for a nice cup of plain coffee because the espresso machine broke and the line is out the door. A distant memory of soft curves and dazzling smiles and curling blonde hair that teased at his fingertips when he stroked it, but then there was Blake and nothing was the same anymore. Lean slabs of muscle under over-tanned skin and laughing blue eyes that mocked without reservation. An earnestness and sincerity that was as addictive as it was maddening in its naivete and Adam... oh, Adam couldn't help but try something new.

****

He'd been given a short break, a breather, perhaps, as Blake went to find their last piece but Adam hadn't wanted a break in the half-light no matter how much his body needed it. Blake's absence was something ripped and torn away from him when he was worn down that far and he'd whimpered til those cowboy boots were out of earshot and then he'd cried out softly, damning the consequences of being heard.

****

Blake must have been out of earshot to that by then too, as there was no warning call or returning footsteps and Adam returned to his hungry little whimpers, his body taut as a string on that damned camouflage guitar that Blake played so skillfully. His man was disgustingly talented and on a bad day, Adam had snapped that Blake's talents were wasted in the genre, only to be met by a silence so startled and hurt that Adam fell over himself in an attempt to apologize.

****

A breather. It almost made him laugh, considering all he could hear were his own pants for air where he was stretched out over the narrow table, the weight of his own dick on his own skin with the ring firmly snapped around it to keep him in check. Adam knew about this suspended state, had read about it late at night when his curiosity and wanderings on the internet got the better of him and now, he was pretty sure, he understood that sense of suspension, where the heavy wood beneath him was barely felt and his thoughts drifted like they were cast free from his mind. Maybe they weren't even his own thoughts anymore, just Blake's boy's thoughts and Adam smiled faintly in the twilight that had settled in the room, warm and smelling of sex and sweat.

****

He'd mistakenly thought it meant that his brain would finally shut up but he quickly learned that his brain never shut up. It was never, ever actually about him shutting up and to think that only cheapened the experience. Instead it was about... about letting go controlling his thoughts, about his mind focusing and refocusing ‘til he was hyperfocusing in every direction and letting slipping away into being Blake's boy take over instead of taking it into himself.

****

There were boots in the hall again, thudding and thunking steadily, deliberately, as deliberate and steady as Blake's hands on his skin, or when he watched those big fingers close around another whip or slapper or paddle to make him hurt and fall a little further into his boy. The words slipped out without conscious thought (Boy's words? His words?), "I'm yours, sir." And he whimpered at the answer that floated down the hall.

****

**"That's five lashes."**

****

Adam loved those lashes. The way the leather bit into his skin, the way Blake’s breath caught when he saw Adam flinch and twist under the whip. there was a word for what they had, a word that was on the tip of his tongue but those boots were right outside the door and adam’s breath was so short he had to bite the tip of his tongue til he choked a little on the pain before he cried out.

****

_“I am yours sir,”_

****

The words hovering til he wasn’t sure if they were floating above his head or sliding from his lips. There was so much he wanted to say and yet he was trembling in silent anticipation of a touch, the whip, even any kind of movement but he could only hear that breathing.  
  
 **“Are you going to behave boy, or is it gonna be ten?”**

****

_“I will behave, sir.”_

****

**"Count."**

****

Adam nodded, hearing the swish-hiss of the whip and by the weight and feel, he figured it was probably Blake’s favorite.

****

" _One._ ” He whimpered, the tails biting into his overheated skin. He was so warmed up he didn't flinch,  there was only the whip, only the swish-crack of leather and air.

****

" _Two._ " Adam shuddered and rolled his hips, the leather stinging a little more, snapping out of him any thought of misbehaving. Even for ten lashes. It wasn’t the point anymore. Not with the box there.

****

“ _Three._ ” It caught him by surprise there, sending him reeling as his breath stabbed in his throat and his body rippled, muscles flexing against his restraints til he could hear a creak of leather under the sharp exhale of Blake’s breath.

****

“ _F-four_.” He counted the minutes under his breath, keeping the movements of his lips just that-only movements but there wasn’t a single sound that escaped aside from the hiss of air between his teeth.

****

“ _Five_.” Adam cried out this time, his hips jerking sharply because these weren’t on his back but on the front of his thighs and he wondered if Blake was going to turn him over onto his stomach but no, no, it wasn’t his place to wonder. Not then. Not yet. Adam kept his eyes tightly closed as the burn of the whip sent the heat rushing into his skin, sinking down to his bones.

There was a cool touch, then, and Adam strained at hearing anything, a box opening, a change in Blake’s breathing, a change in anything but all he could get were fingertips on his thigh and his body was straining to arch. The ropes binding his arms and thighs were quite thorough and while at first he’d joked about being tied up like a calf for branding, he’d gotten smack across the mouth and his dick had started to leak, so he kept quiet after that.

****

**“Good boy.”**

****

It was unexpected, if well-deserved praise and Adam-boy whimpered in gratitude, unable to respond because then those fingers were slipping up his thigh and over his hip, ghosting past his dick and upwards until they found his cheek. Boy’s reward were two fingers to suck on and he sucked up them hungrily, his tongue finding every line in every knuckle and curling about each tip until they were slowly, gently taken away. At last he heard the noise of a box being opened and Adam trembled a little, a vibration of his body that was as undeniable as it was irrepressible and he could see the amused look on Blake’s face in his head without having to open his eyes.

****

“ _Thank you sir._ ” There was another whimper, and his voice was again hovering in the air above him, and he could nearly see each word curling up the whip that he’d heard him setting on a nearby table in favor of picking up the box. Another _please_ formed on his lips but it stopped somewhere right before the air reached his vocal chords.

****

The rustle of cardboard and paper and tissue stopped finally, and he heard a soft hiss, a pleased hiss to his relief, and he shuddered slightly as that pleased sound was _lovely_ and he couldn’t help himself any longer.

****

_“Please, sir.”_

 


End file.
